I have exactly three weeks until I’m running the full 26.2 miles. To date, I’ve run at most 9 and half, which is a little over a third. I tell you all this to show you that I can do math! Hooraaaaaay Math!
Having taken yesterday off due to a cranky knee and hip flexors inflamed with whatever the muscular equivalent to hemorrhoids is, I pulled 7 miles today, running my usual road down Bushwick and then putting an extra loop in through Queens.
Running–too hard to totally enjoy yourself and too slow to really get anywhere meaningful–is just the right speed for getting a feel for your neighborhood. I’m enjoying that part immensely.
One of the benefits of running at dusk is that if I run up one street during daylight, I’m just another skinny dude running, but if I run down that same street half an hour later, I’m looked at as if I’m the Bushwick unicorn, merrily prancing back to his rainbow treehouse.
This is, of course, if you are tripping on acid.
Pulled another 5 miles before work this morning. Feel like an old man hobbling about. Though I was hungry enough to ignore the slightly funky milk in my breakfast cereal.